


I'm Not Bella, Alfred

by MitsukiTheMarauder



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AmePru, M/M, PruAme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MitsukiTheMarauder/pseuds/MitsukiTheMarauder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vampire named Alfred meets a spy named Gilbert. </p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 8th Avenue

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended song: 'Make Me Wanna Die' by the Pretty Reckless
> 
> Re-upload from my FF.net account, MessengerMitsuki :U though I did change some things, it doesn't really mess with the flow I hope.
> 
> I had quite a few chapters, but some how the documents that were containing them were lost, so I only managed to keep a hold of chapter one and two. Forgive me! ::::(

** I'm not Bella, Alfred **

**  
**

 

Alfred swirled the straw in his drink, looking seemingly bored. He sat at his usual table, the one the kind Belgian girl had always reserved for him. It was in a dark corner where you could see every inch of the pub area, making it a great vantage point for possible prey.

Yes, Alfred F. Jones was a vampire, and had been for a few decades. A creature of the night, if you will. He used to be a very intelligent teen boy, smart with rocket science, math and such. A bright future, if he said so himself. Then he met Arthur Kirkland, his mentor, who had immediately taken a liking to him and bit him on the spot. The pain he felt then still disturbed him to this day.

"Freakin' weirdo..." the blonde man muttered, referring to said mentor. Looking tiredly at the stage, he frowned at not being able to listen to the music that usually boomed through the tiny bar. He guessed tonight was different, seeing as the platform was dark and empty, the curtains behind it closed and dusty. Alfred took a swig of Coke, but it didn't quench his thirst. It just tasted better than some of the shit on the menu. If you could even call it that. The burgers were edible, but he was too tired to taste processed meat. It had been his turn to examine human daytime activities. That was never really exciting.

Four loud teens burst into the pub, laughing like mad. One looked like he had a guitar case strapped to his back. The blonde raised his eyebrows and examined the boys. One was carrying drumsticks, had blonde hair and blue eyes with peach fuzz on his chin, and from his accent Alfred guessed he was French. The one with the guitar had tanned skin, dark brown hair, bright green eyes, and seemed to be oblivious to everything except for the fact he was supposed to be laughing. Another one of the group had purple eyes focused on only one particular member of the party and seemed to have light blonde hair. The final member just took his breath away, and he could see how the purple-eyed guy would just want to stare at him. He had silvery white hair, pale skin and ruby red eyes. Alfred wanted to guess he was another vampire, but the only living things he could smell in here were humans and a few rats. Damn, he really thought...

The albino ran up the steps to the stage, which half surprised him. The French guy and tan guy followed, leaving the dude with the scarf to find a table to observe their performance. The vampire was intrigued, so he took another small sip of coke and watched. Once they were set up, Albino (his nickname for the red eyed kid) gave thumbs up to the bar tender, who nodded solemnly.

Albino grinned and said excitedly into the mic, "Hey guys! We're Ehrfürchtig zu Awesome, and shall be your awesome entertainment tonight!" Clearly German. After awhile of setting up, Frenchie tapped his drumsticks together, signaling their performance was beginning. Tan guy slowly started playing the guitar and Albino started a song he recognized, but Alfred couldn't place the name.  Albino here wasn't half bad at singing. Frenchie was good at keeping time, Tan guy too. Over all, they were good for such a small band.

He zoned out for the rest of the song, letting the music sooth him. The blonde looked down at his notebook on the table, and started solving the elementary (for him, at least) problems. When he looked up again, Albino was in front of him, examining his notebook, turning his head slightly to get a better view, song apparently over. "How do ya do that." he indicated one of the more difficult equations.

"Hm? It's simply finding the square root, multiplying it by 74, turning that into an expression and... Never mind." He tried to explain, but decided that it probably was better to change the subject after a small silence, "You did awesome up there."

Alfred silently hoped his eyes stayed a steady shade of blue, and not as red as the German's. That'd be pretty weird, if someone's eyes just randomly changed right in front of you. The blonde never really knew how or why they changed, all he knew is that they tended to do that around prey. Why was it always confusing when it came to being vampire, really? You'd think you could control all the quirks but no, it always had to be a surprise. Never a dull night for vampires. "Thanks, man!" Albino said enthusiastically, "We're always awesome, of course, but it always makes my night to hear that!"

"So, I just made your night?" he smirked, resting his chin on his hand. "Why don't I just buy you a drink?" Albino smiled cockily and sat down across from him. Well, he sure was confident. Alfred could've been some creeper ready to steal him. "Sure! The awesome me could always go for a drink. What's your name?"

"Alfred F. Jones, best hero ever. Yours?"

"Gilbert Beilshmidt, most awesome person ever."

"Heh. Nice," He flagged down a waiter and asked for two cokes. Gilbert didn't object so he guessed that was some major points, if possible. And the points totally went to Gryffindor house.  Literally the home of the brave.

Once the drinks got there, Gilbert nibbled thoughtfully on his straw, "So, you're pretty smart with math and stuff." and everything else in the newest version of the dictionary, Alfred silently interjected.

"Yeah, kind of. I got a degree in engineering and rocketry, so..."

"Dude, you have a degree?" The boy in front of him snickered, "You barely look over fifteen."

"So that's why they refuse to give me beers here," Gilbert rolled his eyes but smiled at the lame joke and just went with the punches. It was easier to talk to this Gilbert than the blue-eyed man originally thought, apparently.

They talked a little while longer and somewhere in the mix, the albino asked, "What do you for a living with those un-awesome degrees of yours?" He thought for a bit.

Which job to tell, that is the question. "I do part-time at an auto repair shop 'round here and I help NASA from time to time. God, I can't believe they're practically handing space exploration to the Russian and Chinese."

"NASA? Dude, you must be either rich, smart, or both. Though I don't see why you live up here." He pointedly avoided the comment about Russia and China.

The night went on, and the pub closed. Gilbert had left an hour ago, having to go to his final year and day of high school tomorrow. He hadn't even realized it was that time of the year.

Anyway, back to the topic. Alfred stood outside the pub, eyes closed and smiling, sighing in relief. NYC really was the best place to be, for vampires at least. No one really expected them, probably because of all the bright lights. Or maybe they just didn't expect it with their busy lives and the running around from building to building. He silently started walking down 8th Avenue, turning and striding past the proud Broadway Theater that was kissed with lights from metaphorical head to metaphorical toe. Alfred flipped up his hood to shade the fangs that were starting to grow in the light. Yep, never a dull night for vampires in NYC.


	2. Bill's Autoparts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before and after photos to the extreme... 
> 
> ...not awesome at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter England! c:  
> And more about Gil's living arrangements later. u_u  
> So don't worry.

Gilbert scowled at the cold. The tiny flakes of snow drifted towards the ground, which already had at least three inches of it laden on the ground. The cold made his tears burn hot like fire, yet as cold as ice at the same time. He felt some of the snowflakes land on his sticky cheeks, only to have them melt away seconds later. He attempted to shield his baby brothers eyes from the bloody, broken, mangled corpses laying literally on the corner of the driveway. The boy tried to keep his breath soft and steady, even though breaking down heaving out sobs like his five-year-old sibling seemed really welcoming at this point. He had to be strong.

Those policemen didn't even seem to care, because it was just another murder. Another file number. Some more evidence. Adding on to piles and piles to their employment records, making them care less and less about the well being of others. The men rolled out the yellow tape with the huge bold lettering, 'Do not cross'.

 Ivan seemed to be the only one that cared. 

The moment he heard he had rushed out and told Gilbert he would find out who did this, that he would find out who had done this to his precious sunflower. Though Gil could never have cared less at the time. He was ten years old and he had just had his parents ripped from his grasp, so he honestly couldn't listen to a twelve-year-old Russian boy rambling on and on. It was consuming him... He could only feel the the pain now, as it got stronger and stronger and then stronger still.

Gilbert awoke from his dream in a cold sweat, quickly whacking his alarm clock into submission. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, asking a question he felt he would be asking a lot from now on, "What happened last night?"

Francis handed him some water, his hair still slightly wet from the shower probably twenty minutes before, considering the French-man's schedule. He was such a beauty king. Or queen. Whichever fit him more, depending on the day. Gilbert didn't even bother asking how the king/queen got in his room, because the many times he had asked, a flirtatious smirk and some crude language was his reply. Not the best thing to wake up to.

"You talked with an Alfred F. Jones, one of our... Suspects." Francis clarified, "I took the liberty of looking him up for you, mon ami." The blonde pushed a Mac Book into the Albino's lap.

"You only want in his pants." Gilbert looked at the water Francis gave him, then back to his friend, "Gimme coffee. This is way too weak."

"Sure, your highness." grumbled the Frenchman as he sulked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"That's the attitude, slave." Gilbert chuckled to himself, leaned back on his head board, and pulled the laptop closer. There were a ton of black and white photos attached at the bottom of his file. Might as well start with the easy shit.

The pictures consisted of some discoveries Alfred made. Simple ones, proving small theories right or wrong. Nothing big until he hit the birth certificate. 

1947.

July 4th of 1947.

Oh God.

Oh. Flippin'. God.

This guy was over fifty years old. So he did what any reasonable person would do.

He screamed. It was like those before and after pictures only the fifty year old in the after photo did not look like a sixteen year old.

Francis came back in sometime and had handed him some coffee, all while he was having his totally awesome and manly breakdown. Francis was lounging on one of the many beanbag chairs, tinkering with a stray string from his fashionably torn jeans, "Done yet?" he looked up with passive interest.

"Fuck no! How-"

"How could he actually be sixty-five? He's not. The boy's probably changed his name and has had plastic surgery. At least, that's what we've logically deduced via everything else being impossible,"The blonde explained, now checking his nails, "and if you look at the death certificate, he died at the age of fourteen. Fairly easy to impersonate somebody around your age, no?"

The explanation calmed him down some."Fourteen?" The red-eyed teen questioned. Fatal illness? Murder? Drowning? Gilbert thought through all the possible causes of death before the man on the beanbag interrupted his thoughts.

"Fourteen. There were two stab wounds in the jugular, barely any blood in the veins, and yet no blood pool at the crime. Body was grave robbed not even a week after death." He explained, "So we know this has been planned for awhile."

Gilbert guessed that was the most thought through thing Francis ever said. It actually had nothing sexual in it either. "Ivan told you that, right?"

"For once could you believe that behind all this gorgeousness that I can use my brain?" His friend retorted, totally serious. Gilbert stared at him with a you-can't-be-serious look. "...Fine. Yes, Ivan gave the information to Antonio, who gave the information to me, who is helpfully giving said information to you."

The albino sighed and stood up, pushing the laptop away. "Well, that means we have to investigate this guy even more, right? Let's get to it, since this clearly won't be easy." And off he went to breakfast.  
   
\---------Bill's Autoparts--------

Gilbert looked at the building and made sure this was the right address. Sure enough, Bill's Auto Parts was it. He blinked away the rain drops glanced around. 

Well, it seemed this place had good business, at least.

People flowed in and out of the shop, talking to one another or shoving past each other. The rain didn't seem to stop the flow of traffic-no pun intended-into the repair shop. All sort of cars sat in the parking lot, from Hondas and Rams to BMWs and Jaguars. Some of the cars had bumpers missing, and Gilbert could've sworn he saw a Ford truck that looked like it was just apart of some bomb squad mission gone wrong.

The white-haired teen was so busy looking around that he didn't even notice until impact that somebody was going to ram into him. There was a small chorus of 'Ow's from the both of them and Gilbert was pretty sure he heard somebody saying something about how that had to hurt. 

The albino examined who he bumped into, wondering if he could act like a true New Yorker and flip the guy off. Messy blonde hair, green eyes, bushy brows, expensive suit. Darn it, he couldn't afford to flip this guy. Not yet, at least.

"Watch where you're going, people can be ruder than me here." growled I'm-Too-Expensive-For-You dude. Oh Gott he was British too. Just his luck. And Gilbert wasn't even walking! 

The (angry) German ranted in his head for a minute before looking back to the british man's eyes to tell him off. Gilbert blinked and looked at the blonde's eyes again. 

Red.

Exactly his eye color, only he hoped his didn't look quite so sinister. 

Weren't they green before?

To say in a few words, he fast-walked into the shop as quickly as he could. The faster he solved this case, the quicker he could figure all this crazy shit out.


End file.
